Cuckolding for Beginners Ch. 08

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Chapter VIII

Erin’s Night Out

Bryn and I showered separately and then sat and watched the football, drinking beer until our wives returned home. The panties were returned to our hips, the chatter away from the sinful actions of the hour before. It was almost as if nothing had happened, but my mind was churning it trying desperately to make sense of it all.

“Peter, you’re not gay so stop worrying about it.” He wryly snapped as our conversation drifted into silence. He glanced at my pensive ponderings and raised an eyebrow. “The first time I did anything with another guy I wondered it for days. Fucked a prostitute just to prove that I wasn’t.” His lips curled as he sat back on the sofa. “What a girl; the things she could do with her lips!”

I shrugged. “I’m not gay!”

“Of course not. And neither am I. Even though I have more sex with men than women. I’m relaxed about gender; it doesn’t matter. I adore cocks and cunts equally, I love Christina.” His eyes met mine as his lips sipped the alcoholic beverage in his hand. “You’ll get there, and it’s fun to play with both sides of the coin. I’ve done it often enough.”

And that was the beginning of our deep, meaningful chat; two hours talking about sexuality left me more comfortable with what we had done, but no closer to working out where I stood.

The thing was, I really did want to do it again. I enjoyed the dirtiness of it, the touch on my cock and the feeling of his dick sliding about in my hand. I felt a bond with Bryn, what with us both being male submissives, that I wouldn’t have with someone else. But I wasn’t gay; but nor could I be straight.

Bryn called himself bisexual and suggested that I might be heteroflexible; mostly straight with some bisexual leanings. I liked that term and in my naivety smiled at the thought of “heteroflexible.” It sounded fashionable and open-minded. Metropolitan, almost.

My wife returned moments after Bryn had left our house, a shade after midnight. In the discussions about my sexuality, I had completely forgot that my gorgeous partner was being seduced by man or men unknown, and the two women fell through the front door giggling like schoolgirls.

Christina and Erin burst out laughing when they saw me: still dressed in my wife’s panties and looking expectantly towards the dominant women.

“Such a good little cucky,” Christina simpered, smirking with sadistic overtones. “Waiting in his little panties for his hotwife.” I gulped, not sure what to say. “Oh, and he’s waiting for his wife to tell him how she did. Expectantly waiting for the tales of debauchery. Begging to know. Like a little istanbul travesti puppy. Beg! Go on beg!”

The tipsy Christina was crueller than her sober namesake; she adored the humiliating chatter and obvious embarrassment I felt, yet my manhood betrayed me, standing stiff to salute the sluttily-dressed wives in my living room.


“Ahhh,” Christina stepped forward to run her fingernail down my body and then grip my cock through the thin fabric. “He wants to know.” She turned to my wife. “Can I have your subbie be useful while you tell him?”

Erin sniggered; Christina pushed me onto my sofa, watching as I tumbled backwards and landed across the soft cushions. I glanced up to see the red dress kneel astride me and a fishnet stocking clad thigh position itself next to my head.

I watched her bare cunt hover over my face, listened to the giggling in the room, as her soft, luscious cunt positioned itself over my waiting lips.

She smelt sweet and sapid, the scent of feminine arousal dancing on the senses like a fine wine as the kinky seductress settled over my tongue. I sensed the latex; a rubbery smell of kink, a creaking sound of skin-tight desire as she settled, sending a wave of arousal to my cock.

“Your wife is a fucking slut,” the young lady cried, snorting as my tongue worked along her slit. “That’s good,” she muttered and groaned as I flicked her clitoris, slippery and deliciously sexy. “She had four men.”

My wife continued the explanation. “The first, love, was a lovely student called Brian. We went to his flat at the Uni and he was getting out of his shower. He had lovely brown eyes and ruffled brown hair. And muscles, so many muscles. I ran my hands over his naked body and his cock sprang to want to fuck me. And so we kissed, him holding me in his arms as my hands gripped his massive dick, sliding over his veiny shaft. He wanted me so bad, pushing me to my knees and pressing his tool between my lips. He groaned as he fucked my face, pushing his cock into my mouth and savagely taking me. I loved it. I loved the feel of his pubic hair smashing against my nose, I loved the sense of his desperation and I loved fucking his friend as he slipped his cock into my cunt as I was spit-roasted by a pair of desperate students.”

My cock was rock-hard, my tongue swirling aggressively against Christina’s clit as the explanation of Erin’s infidelities swirled around my mind. I could picture not the rounded buttocks of the orgasmic woman bouncing on my face but the very image my wife was painting for me.

“And when they were finished. And Christina got fucked travesti istanbul too, we hit the bars. Brian had his hand up my skirt, exposing my cunt to his friends in the pub. And I let him. I let them all look, and why not. They love married pussy. They wanted me and I wanted them. I wanted to break my marriage vows and fuck every one of them on the table. I wanted to be a slut and a whore, and to feel their cumming cocks squirt because of me. I wanted all of that, and as one of them toyed with my cunt and I slipped my fingers over his rod. Smooth skin, beautiful eyes. He longed for it, I could sense his anticipation and his desire. I could feel every inch of his need and I stroked his cock into his party trousers, sliding my fingers over his sopping wet glans. I kissed him, my lips pressed against his as he writhed, squealing as my hands darted over his shaft. I felt his cock swell and pump, I felt every inch of his body orgasm under my touch and he squirted into his underwear, covering my fingers in his semen.”

Christina was squealing and crying, groaning under the feel of my tongue sweeping over her button and savouring the delicate freshness of the freshly-fucked woman. Her hands pressed against my chest, her fingers squeezed my nipples and her hips bucked as she neared her orgasm, caused by tongue and Erin’s dirty words.

“And then we went to the student nightclub. It was dark and loud; I could barely see anything and yet Brian had his hands up my dress, feeling every inch of my bare skin. I wanted him more than ever. I wanted them all. All the cocks swinging in their pants, I could feel their power and it made my pussy wet. He knew and his fingers found my slit and he scissored his fingers into my cunt, making me orgasm in front of a dozen of his friends at the back of the club. I felt such a whore, and yet I wanted more. I needed it. I grabbed the hand of one of them, I never knew his name and I dragged him to an alcove near the toilets, pushing him into the wall as I fumbled with his trousers. His eyes met mine, his lips swirled against neck. I unfurled the condom down his shaft as his fingers pressed against my clit and there was no denying what we were going to do. He flung his hands under my butt and spun me against the wall, lifting my feet from the ground. He pressed hard as his cock slipped underneath me and along my desperate cunt. And I was desperate, I almost cried when he teased me with his erect cock, deliberately taunting me by sliding it over my hole. And then he filled me, pushing in deep to fill me.”

Christina panted and sighed, squealing as my tongue worked against her istanbul travestileri clit and I felt her nearing her climax, rocking passionately on her hips as I took her to the brink of her orgasm.

“And his thighs — rugby thighs — were fucking incredible, screwing me like a cheap whore as people milled past ignoring us or not seeing us. It was like I was eighteen again, all those random fucks in nightclubs and hotels. I felt his cock pulse and twitch as his lips kissed mine, and his hands supported my bum. He muttered dirty words to me above the music, the taste of whisky on his lips lingering from our kiss. And he drove his cock faster and faster into my cunt, feeling me groan, cry and whimper. Feeling my legs quiver under his manly thrusts. And he was a man, taking me like a man should take a woman. Taking me like I was his fucking whore and conquest. And I was. I was beholden to his charms and his cock, spearing into my lust as he sent shockwaves through my cunt and delivered a toe-curling climax to my body as he spent in his condom.”

Christina cried as she breathlessly came from my tongue, pressing her cunt onto my lips as I tasted her sexual satisfaction. She lay for a moment against my body as I breathed in her aroma from my wet face. I felt the criss-cross of her stockings against my skin.

She’d come strongly and I caught the eyes of my wife, smiling with glee. My cock was hard and she sat alongside me, pressing my panties to my knees. “Go on then,” she said to Christina, her face inches from my crotch. “And tell me about your evening.”

“Ahh,” I muttered as Christina giggled and wrapped her lips over my slippery glans. “Bryn and I did massage,” I muttered, stopping as Christina’s tongue flickered against my cock and I groaned in satisfaction. “And I massaged him off and he massaged me off,” I cried, feeling desire build in my loins. I looked into Christina’s cunt, inches from my face as she slurped at my manhood. I drove a finger against her clit, swirling the wetness around with my thumb.

She groaned loudly. “It was the massage oil. It got everywhere,” I squealed, feeling the pressure build inside of me until I was nearing my point of no return. “And I wanked him off and he wanked me off,” I squealed, groaning as I threw my head back onto the cushion. I couldn’t stop my orgasm, I had no resistance, grunting as my body erupted into several waves of cum that filled Christina’s mouth as she squealed onto my manhood, writhing from her second orgasm.

We lay exhausted for a few moments, saying nothing until Christina kissed my wife and I goodbye, and staggered out of the door, tipsy from alcohol and drunk from lust.

I looked at my wife: her make-up smudged, her hair unkempt and her blouse marked with cum. But she was sexy; so desperately gorgeous and I pressed my lips against hers and kissed her.

And I told her how much I loved her.

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